The Dividing Line
by galleons
Summary: A fiery temper and language that only a blacksmith could love.
1. Chapter 1

_Fun and fluff...it just came out...This one is even more years down the road. You try to do a one-shot as a favor and then...  
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_Disclaimer: I do not seek to profit from any of this. This is just for fun and as an antidote to some recent boredom.  
_

**The Dividing Line**

The men approached the open fields. They were still immersed between the green trees of the nearby forest when they stopped. The rolling green hills appeared particularly beautiful that day. Spring was almost there. It was cool, a slight chill, but the warmth of the sun more than made up for it.

The banners made their way to the agreed upon spot. The long streaming banners forked at the ends erupted in a riot of colors, much at odds with the grays and browns of steel, armor, fur, and boiled leather. They fluttered in the air at the ends, and then gave a last sway before halting all together along with men on horseback and those on foot.

It had been many long months, months of fighting, working, sleeping out among the elements, cool days and colder nights. And many had joined them on the way, on the way to the Kingsroad and to King's Landing.

The goal was in sight, the path clear. Place a good, a stable king on the throne and then turn back and fight the Others. Many bannermen were here and more were joining up with them at designated meeting spots along the way. Nobles, knights, men at arms, villagers, wildlings and men of the Night's Watch all. Some stayed behind for defense and the rest had come to journey to King's Landing, with the Starks at the head of the host.

Lord Commander Snow had come personally to help his family at this most critical time in the rebellion and also to join with the other forces should the Others come earlier than expected. Jon's horse came to a halt very near Lord Brandon's as well as Hodor's, who was nearby in case Lord Brandon should need him. "Is this the place…this field here?"asked Jon.

"Yes. Where the field begins and the part of the forest we are now in ends," said Bran.

"Do you trust them?"

"My mother does. And since they have sent people to Winterfell they have been honorable and trustworthy and have dealt more than fairly. There have been ravens back in forth and messengers of theirs to meet with us. They have been on the move far longer than we have tying up loose ends, but were on their way to join us as soon as they heard we had raised the banners and were about to start."

"So we wait. Let them send a rider first."

Bran nodded at Jon.

The silence was broken suddenly by the sound of hooves approaching from the rear.

"Why have we stopped? And I wished to ask you if you are sure what they said…it is for certain? Their men, the numbers are not far behind ours."

"We have not even picked up half our host yet, Arya. Don't worry. Not this time."

Arya Stark grimaced and pushed her direwolf helm off her head. Her long brown hair spilled out from her where it was tied in the back.

Jon smiled at her. "I remember when King Robert came to Winterfell. You were late, and as we awaited them, almost before we were going to bow and pay homage, out you run, dirt all over you, on your face, and a half helm you apparently stole.

"It was Mykken's, mind you, he let me borrow it," she informed him with a grin.

"Did he know?" Jon eyed her with suspicion.

"Not exactly."

Bran smiled. "Then how was it borrowed?"

"Maybe It wasn't then. But I would have told him if father hadn't taken it. I heard from him about it afterwards anyway." They laughed. A bit of nervous excitement tinged with the sweet recollection of the man they had all loved.

"He'd be proud wouldn't he?"

"Yes. But let's not talk. We have far more to do before this is truly over."

She nodded.

"Really, when we stop and make camp. We should tell him this story. He might enjoy it," said Bran.

"Who?" asked Arya.

"King Robert's son…"

"He has no true sons." She looked at him oddly.

"Yes, he does. After the red priestess and Stannis and his family….all the banners went to him. There is another son and a girl but he is the eldest…"

"I only saw messengers, well, from all different Houses, but I just assumed it was a relative or…" Arya trained and helped to train, but left the politics and diplomacy to her brothers and mother. Now she felt the biggest fool imaginable for not hearing much about this.

"I would think if we succeed, they would each take DragonStone and Storm's End amongst each other, like Robert's arrangement with Stannis and Renly."

"Yes. It would seem so. The new king would have to be in King's Landing. They will need to keep those places strategically for him.

"But I don't understand…who the hell," started Arya.

"They tell me three were legitimized. Tommen was a pretender so the most rightful king with Stannis and his kin gone would be Robert's son. So for those who still loved Robert and were loyal banners, they knighted them properly so they are the rightful heirs. It was kept sort of secret until they could get proof and so certain others didn't find out too early and surmise what they were doing. Well, not Edric. Stannis had housed him and kept his nephew as a ward for several years, but The Onion Knight had moved him to safety because of the red woman. He always knew. But the girl, and the true heir, the eldest son, had absolutely no idea until about a year ago. Mother and I didn't tell anyone and I only told Jon recently too." Bran looked at his sister's shocked face with sympathy.

"Well, make sure it's not a trick,"blurted out Arya.

"It's not. Most were mother's men before. And some of them claim to know you Arya."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd be able to tell us…unless they mean the _other _Arya."

Arya made a face. Sad for the girl that was subjected to Bolton and his cruelties, but sighing in relief that it had helped her move about and get home that much easier without calling attention to herself.

"I would have to see them first."

"You will later. When we make camp and eat," offered Bran.

It was then that they noticed the necks of their men In their helms craning toward the sound of hooves, their visors clanging down to block the sun as they watched the man approach.

He rode up to the first Stark line.

"I wish to parley with Lord Brandon, future King of the North," he inquired in a friendly tone.

"I am Lord Brandon."

"My lord," he bowed from his saddle. "Lord Baratheon would like me to deliver his most sincere greetings. We rode out to show our good faith and to assure you that camp is about a mile from here and already being prepared and his banners have ensured enough food and wine for a grand feast. The baggage trains are more than ample in the Spring, with fresh supplies since Winter has ended."

"Very well. Give mine as well. We have a tent we will set up to go over the plans. After the feast, on the morrow, each House will send a member for a meeting and report back to their men and banners. A day or two to go over all the particulars, I think. Then we march I believe we agreed."

"Yes, but first, before we move to camp, my lord wishes to treat with a member of your House."

"I will send Lord Commander Jon Snow in my place." Everyone knew what had happened years ago to Lord Brandon, so his lack of presence at the informal treat hung in the air, and washed over.

"I am afraid that is not what Lord Baratheon meant. He wishes to treat with Lady Arya of House Stark."

There was silence for a split second.

"I believe Lord Commander Snow would best serve in this matter," said Bran firmly. Maester Luwun had always taught him to never show surprise even if words cause it.

"Lord Baratheon wishes to parley with Lady Arya. I apologize for the Lord if this has caused an inconvenience or offense," said the envoy smoothly.

"Offense?" piped up Arya. "Why? Do they think we are all pretenders? Out with it? Sansa had to be Alayne in the Vale. I was many to survive outside and within Westeros. Even Brandon and Rickon after the Greyjoy nonsense…is that what this is bloody all about?"

"Arya." Bran and Jon tried to shush her. Bran gave her a soothing but firm look that quieted her for a moment.

"I understand you are following orders. But I will send Lord Commander Snow to speak with Lord Baratheon and his staff."

"Oh, please don't misunderstand. Lord Commander Snow may come as well, and anyone else you wish,. but he specifically asked for Lady Arya."

"Why is he looking for a kingdom, a crown, a wife, and Winterfell, is that all?" snapped Arya.

Bran looked at her, letting her know silently that it was her choice and he would not force her.

"Fine." Arya shifted her helm from where it leaned on the pommel of her saddle and brought it down on her neck a little rougher and faster than Jon and Bran thought she should have.

She put a heel to her horse and trotted off. She turned her horse in a circle, visor up, and told them she would return, and quite possibly having already unsheathed Needle from her scabbard. She made sure the envoy heard her clearly and followed him to his lines.

Her brother's laughed and nodded for her to go. The men in the front lines would be ready if needed. Never too cautious, the Starks had learned.

She wasn't going to suffer this nonsense. _How dare they? Some upstart, a bastard probably only a year ago or so, refuses to treat with Jon? _She didn't say it to her brothers, but she had a feeling that they wanted to avoid Jon because of his bastardry. And everyone knew envoys parleyed or went over to a lord. Lords did not make demands of other lords to come over to one side or another. The always met, on equal footing, in the same tent, chambers, solar…at the same time,

She huffed in annoyance, trying to steady her temper. She told herself to stop getting aggravated as she rolled her shoulders back and again rode her horse with a tall and proud seat. Remembering Septa Mordane and her riding instructor nagging her that if she kept slouching on horseback and while walking she would be bent-backed like Old Nan or another crone of her choosing. She rolled her eyes at the memory.

She noted the yellow and black Baratheon stag banners and sigils, on shields, horses, cloaks, almost everywhere. She did marvel that the damned fiery heart of R'hllor and the stupid lion next to the stag sigils of Stannis and the Lannisters were gone. She hadn't seen the sole stag banners since King's Landing when Robert was king.

She held up her chin in her heavy direwolf helm. She was proud to represent House Stark herself. Proud that Jon and Bran let her ride out with them and come with them into battle eventually. Mother, Sansa, and Rickon were back at Winterfell running the day to day activities and supervising its defense. She had on grey breeches, worn leather boots, tunic, and over that a breastplate with the profile of a direwolf engraved with black and white enamel for eyes, pupils, and teeth. She rather liked the intimidating snarl of the wolf in their sigil. Much better than the stupid dancing lion the Lannisters had. She wore a long gray cloak that bore the sigil of House Stark and with a neckline and hemline encircled with fur for warmth. It joined over her left shoulder with another direwolf metal clasp. But the helm was specially made for her by Jon. And Needle, which hung over one side of her waist and also from Jon was with her too. _So if these bloody idiots meant to insult him…_she would let them know just what she thought of that. She was no longer Arya Horseface or Arya Underfoot, the names that some of them knew her as from Bran's banners. The Greatjohn had tried out the nickname a few weeks ago when his banners joined them on the way for old time's sake and she had landed him on his arse. The nicknames ceased. Who knew exactly who had joined up with this Lord Baratheon either? If she had to stop the nicknames again, so be it. She had been many things to many people but now she was once again Arya of House Stark for good this time and for all time.

She rode up to the first line. She noted that the envoy rode off. She had never done this before, so she didn't know that the infantrymen probably knew nothing.

"I am Arya of House Stark, come to treat with Lord Baratheon."

"Why would he treat with a girl? A handsome girl at that, but still…" The line cracked up laughing in amusement.

"Weren't you married to Bolton or was that the imposter? How do we know it's really you? I can't make out much of your people hidden in the forest either. If they are your people…"

"I _am_ Arya of House Stark. I am not a pretender. And I will pretend you didn't say what you just did to me. If I were married I would not give my introduction as Stark or maybe you are all too dim-witted to realize that? Now, I will give you that I shouldn't even be here. But your envoy to Lord Baratheon refused to meet with my brother Lord Commander Snow, causing all this." Two men stepped toward her horse. She kicked one in the kneecap when he moved his hand out to her, as he yelled out and hobbled on one foot gripping his knee, she unsheathed Needle and held it out defensively in front of her. "Now tell the envoy to get his arse over here or your line may be shorter if I have to be insulted again or if anyone steps one foot closer to me. It's in bad form. You should probably know or if your arent't seasoned yet you will know that there is protocol for parley for all, for safety and hospitality reasons. Tell your lord and his envoy _that!"_

The envoy had approached behind and to the side of the men, and in her fury and audacity at their rudeness, she hadn't noticed that he had most likely observed the whole exchange.

"Yes, m'lady. I will get my arse to Lord Baratheon right away. He is in the back lines with his chief staff, of course." As he rode off again, Arya decided that he didn't like his flippant tone or the slight glimmer of amusemtn in his eyes.

She got of her horse, folded her arms, and leaned against the body of her horse and waited.

It took awhile and she grew angrier by the minute, but so far the young boys in the infantry had not bothered her again. She had noted that an older man had come over and given them a cold, authoritative stare. Most likely they would all be reprimanded later on while not in front of her.

She heard horses approach and the envoy call out in a loud voice to a man next to him on horseback. "Lord Baratheon, this charming envoy is Lady Arya of House Stark. Whom I might add, threatened two of your front infantry with possible stab wounds from her sword and already bodily harmed one by kicking him in the kneecap, after using quite colorful language and threats."

She made a noise of anger and impatience and pulled off her helm with a violent jerk. Her hair fell out of its piece of twine and tumbled messily over her shoulders. One side shifted awry but she was too angry and humiliated to care. "Did you tell my lord what led up to that?" her voice rose in anger. "I didn't quite get that part. And how about slighting my brother, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, thus allowing me to have to come in his place, by which the harm I supposedly caused your men could have been avoided?"

She saw the envoy smile and the men smile too. She didn't understand and seethed. _Were they mocking me? Did I amuse them? Did they not believe I was Arya? Or would they just not take a young woman seriously. _She slammed her helm to the ground in a fury. She realized this might not be good for the enamel on her wolf but she was too pissed too care. They only laughed harder. "I will not stand for this. How dare you? Is this how you treat? Should my brother Lord Brandon be concerned? Should I walk over there now and…is this some cheap foul trick? I will go over there now and I'll…"

"It's _her_…no, really, it _is,_' a deep voice shouted, but the voice slightly cracked, alerting her that it was highly amused and could barely contain its initial roaring laughter. But as he trotted closer with his horse and several other men on horseback, he was still too far to see. But she could see the visor, where the eyes were, and this person certainly knew who _she _was.

She misunderstood. It didn't make sense. Mother had dealt with the envoys that had come to Winterfell to make all of these arrangements with Bran. She had seen them come and go. The fake Arya was confirmed to be with Greyjoy, everybody knew that. Why would my family pretend if it wasn't me for them? But then why…the laughing man? Really all of them had laughed themselves silly at her expense.

She grew quiet and gave them all a surly glare. But then she looked around and saw amidst a sea of faces several that looked familiar to her. _Perhaps grown…perhaps older…_ Then she saw Lem, Edric, and others. She then realized how stupid she had been because she now recognized several other banners besides the stag. And a few camp followers on foot approached her and her horse, right in front of the men on horseback that appeared to be coming from the rear because they had not broken the lines.

"Arry? Pardon me, m'lady, I mean Lady Arya. Are you mad? Yelling at a bunch of knights? Still a bit wild…always was." He called out to the men. "I'd be quiet if it were me, she's beaten me up before. Almost bloody cut me." A fat older boy warned the boys in the front line. "Have to be mad to try and start up with her."

"If she cut you, you'd have some fat to spare to go around now wouldn't you?" yelled out a soldier, and the men broke up again.

"Hello, my lady." A man plucked some strings and hit a few notes before greeting her by bowing with a grand sweep of his hands.

"Tom…Tom O'…Hot Pie?" she croaked in disbelief.

"Yes Arry, er, m'lady, it's me. Would you like some bread? You have to try it. I've gotten even better since you last seen me, really I have…and…"

She had been so occupied she hadn't noticed that the riders had stopped. They had fallen into line all except for two, but with one slightly ahead of the other on horseback.

The envoy whispered something to the man in the front. He laughed, threw back his head, laughed harder, and shook his helmed head in merriment. It was the same loud booming laugh she had heard a few moments before. The man on horseback was very tall and big. His chest led up to very broad shoulders that she noted was not just due to the very elaborate armor. The breastplate had a stag, and his one hand gripped the reigns of his horse as the other held a warhammer which casually rested on his shoulder. But the helmet she had seen before….it looked like it had been fixed up, polished, some additions made, especially to the horns. Only one person she knew had a bull helm to her knowledge, because no other house or knight personally had such an animal for their sigil. The man didn't even bother to raise his visor. He ripped his helm from his head but halfway up she saw the biggest smile she had ever seen. The black hair was mussed and sweaty but the blue eyes seemed to go through her own, the gaze as sharp as a sword.

The shock was too much, yet it felt as if she had only just seen him. He still looked somewhat of a boy but he had to be nearly two and twenty. She felt for some unexplainable reason her knees go weak. She grabbed her horse's side to steady herself. It was _Gendry._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He hadn't yet broken his stare; the smile almost giddy. His face was as stupid as he had looked when he almost died of laughter at the acorn dress she was coerced into wearing. But it was also then that she really noticed how closer he was to being a man than a boy since she had last seen him though. He made no attempt to speak and the dead silence was irking her and making her slightly uncomfortable for some reason, so she spoke.

"Gen-dry. _Gendry."_ She had no idea really why she had just repeated herself like Hodor.

"Yeah, Arya.," he nodded and smiled broadly.

"Er, I mean Lord Baratheon…you _are _Lord Baratheon?" She believed she sounded like a dolt.

"Yes, about a year now, I think." His eyes flickered up like he was thinking and then darted back to hers.

"Why did you.. why didn't you just…"she stopped dead in her tracks, thinking as well."

"Just what?" An eyebrow rose.

For a minute the embarrassment of her behavior sunk in, but she had really thought they were rude and giving her a hard time because they could, or she was a girl or...she forgot how blind-sided she had been at the surprise of seeing him again, and grew slightly annoyed now that the initial shock had passed somewhat. "It's called a _raven _or a _messenger _with parchment…"she sounded a little stunned.

"I would've, but I wasn't sure what to do. How could I bring this up with your brother who didn't know who I was until a year ago? How would I explain it? And now that you've all arrived, that you're right here, I couldn't wait. It's been years since the Inn and…" his face grew stormy for a second. "I wanted to see you for myself. I know what you told me when you were Arry and I wanted to be sure. I couldn't see how after the Hound…maybe I didn't want to be wrong."

"It's me," she blurted out.

"I know. I know it is. You didn't even have to lift, well, throw down your helm." He laughed again and then shook his head in a gesture of almost trying to stop himself from laughing at her, but he couldn't.

"Oh."

"I knew you once you started shouting. Before that."

"I knew when you kicked the man in the bloody kneecap and waved that sword," called out Lem. "Hey Weasal…my nose is fine, but when it's cold or chilly, not so good."

She made a face but said nothing. Now, years later, she might just feel slightly bad about it.

Gendry looked over at Lem and smirked, apparently remembering, and then turned back to her. "Your hair is long."

"It grew. I didn't need a boy cut anymore."

"It's nice, very different." He said nothing and then got quickly off his horse, a page ran to take his reigns and steady the horse. He walked slowly over to her and looked down at the ground in front of her.

"Your helm…let me see it." She sheepishly picked it up from the ground where she had thrown it only moments before.

He used his sleeve to wipe off dirt and grass from the detailing and to get a closer look. He twisted it and looked at different angles. He smoothed a hand over the metal and gave it a sharp tap with the knuckles of the fist he had just made.

"It's good work. Who made if for you?" he asked.

"A man of the Night's watch…. Jon, Lord Commander Snow, my brother, had it made for me."

"The breastplate?"

"Same thing."

His blue eyes looked at her waist."I see you still have Needle. Well, I'd already heard you were waving it around." He grinned at her and gave her a knowing look.

"Yes. It's Needle." She turned red, remembering how Needle had been unsheathed too.

"Maybe I will make you something. You know, from me."

"You still do that?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Of course I do. I'd never stop. I like to make things. I can make them look the way I want. Do you know how it drives me mad when I see shoddy work? I just think, well, if I just fixed this or put that there it might be better. It takes time, but I know sometimes, with they way things are now, they probably just had to rush it a bit."

The conversation lulled. She found she had nothing to say. He spoke again.

"Well, let's go to camp then. You are coming with us right?"

"Yes."

"Ride next to me. I've so much I want to ask you."

"But my brothers…Bran and Jon…"

"Oh, I almost forgot." He looked slightly embarrassed at his misstep. "Still new to me…" he mumbled and turned pink.

"I have to ride over so they hear it from me that it's ok. I kind of, uh, your envoy…when he approached us before…"

"I heard." He chuckled and inclined his head in the direction of her brothers. "Go talk to them and I'll wait here. I will ride beside you when you get back."

She was back in half an hour. She slowed her horse and stopped very close to his. He grabbed her reigns and tied them up with his. They made off with a slow trot.

"I almost didn't want to know. Not until I could see you for myself to be sure. How did it happen then?"

"How did what?"

"When you disappeared…when he took you, I mean, the Hound. What happened?" He asked her seriously.

She told him a quick and short version leaving many details out due to time and it was just too much to speak of for they only had minutes before they reached camp. And Braavos was certainly for another time.

"Was he nice to you?"

He was fine. He's a little angry, but all bark and no bite. Er, with me anyway. He drinks a lot and I think he was really lonely. And he talked about my sister a lot." She didn't add that he gushed like a girl over her, much like when she heard Sansa and Jeyne Poole when she was younger, much to her dismay and horror. "He didn't hurt me. He wanted to take me back to my family. He wasn't sure that Beric and his men were going to, so he just took me. And he was probably pissed about his coin too. He won it."

"They were. We didn't know that exactly because we just met them, but they were going to take you. They've been protecting everyone they could until we joined with your mother and then Lord Bran and your people. We've been sending messages and men to Winterfell to let you know that if I become king…it's yours. I don't want it," he looked away from her and blushed. He looked down and then spoke. "And I'm not saying that like I'm _letting _you have it or something. I don't mean it that way. It's always been your family's. I know they'd guard the north as they always have and after your brother Robb and what I heard, the people want a King in the North."

She felt the tears come and wiped them away quick enough, but he saw it. He gave her a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Your brother Bran, he should be King in the North as it always was. I will have the other kingdoms to set right."

"But you don't seem to mind so much, why is that? Everyone else did, even Robert."

"Because I don't care about being selfish, or…it's not about that for me. It is a lot like the Brotherhood, but a lot more land and people. I just want to keep the realm and the people safe. I figure it's my duty since I found about who I am, who my father was, and I don't' intend to do the same job he did exactly, or his brothers…"

"Lord Baratheon…"

"_Gendry._ Arya, you can still call me Gendry. It's my name isn't it? And we are not treating right now. I just said that so you'd come over." He smiled almost shyly.

"Right. Your father… I knew him."

"A drunken sod from what I heard when I apprenticed for Mott. I think Lord Arryn paid for my apprenticeship… I'm not even sure he knew…"

"He wouldn't do that without telling your father, I don't think, or at least letting him know. Father always said that he was like a father to him and to King Robert when they were boys. He was the Hand of the King. How could he not tell him? King Robert took care of some of his children if he knew…or so I heard. I think he just didn't want to hear the queen go on and on about it."

"How do you know?" He seemed fixated on her words.

"I don't. But I knew him and he did er, like to drink. But he could be fun and he liked to laugh and he joked and played tricks on my father when they were younger. And he had a kind heart and he tried, but I don't think he was very happy."

"Why do you think that?"

"The queen was nasty to him. He didn't like that. He knew how she was but he had no choice. Joffrey was a monster and I don't think he cared too much for him either. He didn't love her. He loved Jon Arryn and my dad as brothers. And I think that was it for him. I don't think being a king was quite what he thought it would be. It didn't make him very happy because he only wanted it with my aunt by his side. I think he thought he would fight hard and win and ride off with my aunt into the palace and be happy forever. Or maybe not. I don't think he wanted to be king, he just had to when he won. He just wanted to marry my aunt. And he was never the same, they say, after my aunt."

"Who is your aunt? The one they say he started the war for…"

"Lyanna Stark. She died before I was born, before the end of the war, but I used to visit her crypt at Winterfell. Robert loved her very much and so did my dad. She looked exactly like me and I'm very much like her. She hated wearing dresses and she hated being a lady. She rode a horse well and could fight very good with swords, so Robert never got over it and he loved her all his life." Arya had found out a lot when she started asking others questions. But there were so many things she would still ask her Father if he wasn't gone.

"Can't blame him I guess." He mumbled softly.

"They said he drank to forget about her. He thought she would have been a fine queen. Better than Cersei…"

"I know what it's like to lose people. Several times…my mother….some of the orphans, babies even, Arya…to see the little ones is the worst, but I don't want to be like that." He made a face, it almost grew sad or angry, she wasn't sure, but then he seemed to try to wipe his thoughts quickly away.

"You won't. Not if you don't wish too. I know both of you and I think you are stronger. You know, _inside._ Everyone says you look just like him when he was younger. You know about his warhammer too?"

"Who doesn't? Yeah, but it just happened. I…they gave me to Mott when I was very little after my mum died. I just became a smith's apprentice; no choice of my own. I used hammers. I can use a sword and other things too, but this is what I use if I have to fight. I'm just better with it."

"So was Robert. And I'd rather use Needle to, uh, if I have to."

"I've been told I'm not too bad at it either. Well, we've had to fight off people for so long I guess it just happened."

They rode on silently until the tents started to come into view.

"We are almost near the camp. Once you settle with your brothers we'll eat. Just a small feast, you know, to welcome everyone and get together before the meeting tomorrow. You'll eat with me?" he sounded like the younger Gendry when he asked her.

"Okay."

"I want you to sit with me and your brothers too. I am asking you but, you know as lords, my envoy will have to do the proper thing and formally invite them all and all that bloody nonsense." He made a face like he didn't care too much for the formality of it all. Arya thought that neither had his father.

"I know."

"But you can tell them what I said too. I wanted to ask you all myself before the envoy. We are going to be around each other a lot with many months ahead and then the war itself." He informed her cheerfully and with definitiveness, and then he turned to her again. "Do they…know about me?"

"Not that it is you. I didn't even know until I came over here."

"What do they know about me anyway?"

"I told them about a young armorer's apprenctice that I met when Yoren got me out of King's Landing after father…and how you stuck up for me after Lommy and Hot Pie started in before we all got along alright. And how we were friends and we escaped several times and travelled the Road and you were nice to me and looked out for me. And I didn't forget it."

"I didn't forget you either. You were so brave, you made me feel better. I hoped things would be better. When you were taken you don't know how bad it was…for everyone. I didn't know what happened or if you'd be hurt or… For all of us to fight off the worst, to get out and then for that to happen…" He took a breath and halted.

"It's fine. I will tell you all about it sometime."

He changed the subject. "Your seat is next to mine. I will be on Bran's right, is it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"And you can be on my right."

"What about Jon?"

"He can be on your right, but why do you ask?"

"You know about Lord Snow?" The question hung in the air. She didn't know how things worked at the Watch, but in the past with lords, poor Jon had not always been allowed the better seats at Winterfell. Jon was the only matter she wished her mother had been different about, that and trying to make her a lady like Sansa."

"Yeah,and I also know that I am a bastard still, raised or not, and we don't have to follow all the old ways, don't you think? Our parents just weren't married, so what? Only nobles care about these things because of heirs and all. The common folk couldn't care less. I mean sometimes I cared but, it's really who you are inside. Not who your parents were, or what you've got; you showed me that. You were a lady and you were my friend anyway. You got us out and we survived. That's why I worried about what happened. You saved us when really Hot Pie and Lommy wouldn't have had it in them to leave if you didn't push us all. Neither would I. And If I would have seen the Hound take you I would have never let him, no matter what happened."

She reached over and squeezed his upper arm. Almost like she had seen the men do it to let their fellow men know they did good work in a battle. She felt an awkward fool. She didn't know what to say. Compliments had never been easy for her because she had gone so long without them. She rode off to find her tent that was being assembled. He watched her go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Arya found out that all discussion of strategy, really what was next, would take place on the morn. A scout had returned late and it seemed it had taken that much longer to reach the camp.

The feast, however, would resume. Lord Baratheon wished to further demonstrate to the Starks and their banners that they were among friends and to seal their commitment to their cause after so many instances of turmoil and others examples of treachery that most had already experienced.

Arya stepped out of her tent where Jon and Bran were waiting for her. They noticed that besides removing her armor and direwolf helm, she hadn't changed.

"Are you at least going to put a comb through your hair?" asked Jon hesitantly. "Bran arranged for you to have that serving girl assist you….well, at the very least to patch your breeches from time to time." Sewing was another art that Arya didn't think much of.

"I look fine," she snapped, but not unkindly.

"Can you at least wear a dress? A simple one, anything will do. You know I don't care Arya, but this is sort of a formal gathering and you do know how it is…"implored Bran.

"We are going to be late then," she huffed. She put a hand through her hair to try to arrange her long brown hair into some type of suitable arrangement, but it was all for naught. She wondered now if she perhaps should have maintained the boy cut…fingers had to make do. For years she was lucky is there was enough water around not used for drinking or she was near a stream in which she could dunk her head and even wash.

"Can you do it for mother…"

"_I said_ I will not have a lady's maid. I am not Cersei… and Sansa can have one if she wishes so she looks good for the Hound," she rolled her eyes.

"Arya, the road and battle are other things, but just for tonight, unless you plan on wreaking havoc at Lord Baratheon's feast…"asked John with caution.

She thought about Gendry and how he didn't like certain things, but realized the little things he could pass up to compromise, and she then thought about her mother and all she had been through, and really, what her mother would say if she saw her…_maybe it wasn't such a big deal? _She had her armor, and her Needle, and they could complain about her dress and hair all they wanted. She would go back into the tent, alter her appearance somewhat, but Needle was coming with her. The sword belt could reasonably go over her dress. Even her aunt had done it according to some who had once known her.

"Fine then. I will need five minutes. And I am bringing Needle. Where is the, er, maid?," she huffed resignedly.

"She is in a tent with the rest of the camp followers, wondering what the hell she could have possibly done to offend you that you won't let her serve you," Jon smiled.

"Bring her here then… please. And I guess, I will have to, um..apologize and let her know where I stand in all this…"

Arya opened up the tent 10 minutes later with apprehension. She hated the gray velvet slippers and preferred the comfort and practicality of boots. She bit her lip and eyed the hem of her dress pondering what a waste it was to wear such a fine dress with dirt and animal shit all over wherever they walked. Her dress was gray, with white lining at the wrists of her long bell sleeves, that she knew would get the dirtiest if they kept dunking down into trenchers every time she moved or went to lift a cup of wine. Her unruly and thick hair was somewhat cooperating from some brush strokes deftly doled out by her maid, who even smiled after the effort after having understood that it was nothing personal regarding Arya. She told Arya that if done regularly, her hair might be easier to brush and take last time. Arya nodded; it made sense to her and sounded better. She also used some type of liquid in a clay jar to control Arya's hair, that Arya wished she hadn't balked at when she first saw the poor girl crack open the stopper on the lid.

She gingerly put a slippered foot forward and onto the grass. Her brothers believed that was the most delicate move they had ever witnessed her make.

"See if you put your mind to it…" cajoled Bran. She grimaced. It would be the longest night she had experienced in a long while.

Bran and Jon just smiled and tried not to laugh. She eyed them suspiciously and tried to summon an image in her mind of how Sansa managed to move and walk around and not soil herself. Arya wasn't shooting for perfection. She just wished to survive this night and possibly trip on her skirts perhaps once or twice without falling and looking a complete fool.

They entered the great tent where the feast was. A young boy dressed in velvets announced their arrival; Lord Brandon and Lady Arya of House Stark and Lord Commander Snow of the Night's Watch. She felt her anxiety lesson a bit, because despite Gendry's assurance that Jon would be treated with respect, she wasn't sure how it would trickle down to the rest in their number.

Another older boy led them to the most principal table in the back that faced out to the other tables and benches within the great tent. She spotted Gendry right away. He had broken his conversation with another man that was standing near him as he sat, and rose to greet them. They sat in the order, just as Gendry had promised earlier.

Once they were seated, Gendry said nothing at first. He then spoke briefly to Bran and Jon about the meeting that would square away many details tomorrow. Arya appreciated that he seemed to look over and speak to her also to include her as her brothers did.

The conversation broke once the first service of food came around. Arya looked a little disappointed that the subject had changed. He leaned in to speak to her.

"I know you…but all of the details can wait until tomorrow. " He eyed her and there was laughter within the depths of his eyes.

She was disappointed. She could manage to forget the fact that she was dressed up while discussing plans for battle. She couldn't hide her disappointment either.

Gendry seemed to notice something else. He looked down at her dress. "I remember the first time…that dress with the …" one side of his mouth curved up.

"Just bring up the acorn dress"….she warned him with a stern glare. "What could be stupider than a dress embroidered with little brown stupid acorns of all things."

"A dress with acorns?" What a brave lady to even suggest…"laughed Jon.

"It was not really a suggestion. I sort of had to wear it. Even Sansa wouldn't wear it."

She looked at her brothers and Gendry and rolled her eyes. She speared a piece of chicken with a knife she also kept on her much like Needle.

The boys were silent. Her brothers seemed to wonder where the knife had come from. She ahd agreed to only bring Needle, but she didn't like the amused looks on their faces as they waited for her to say something else first.

"I won't discuss it. I had to do what I had to do to survive and…"but she was embarrassed and her thick brown hair tumbled into her eyes as she proceeded to rip open the chicken with too much force.

She had learned to control her temper a bit_. Well, enough to know to not tell off Lord Baratheon publicly. Privately was another matter…_

She noticed with horror that Bran and Jon seemed to want to know more and Gendry told them a detailed description of the dress and how she had kneed him and other details, as her brothers shook their heads in familiarity.

She almost thanked the gods out loud when Bran made his rounds with Hodor guiding him on horseback from table to table to check on his men, and to have a word with some other banners and men with Lord Baratheon.

Gendry seemed to take this as his cue to not get up, and leave Bran and Jon to their work. He looked over at Arya. She looked around impatiently for a server to bring the next service.

"Why are you so pissed?" he asked in amusement. She had forgotten how startlingly blue his eyes were. Just like his father.

"Do I really have to tell you? It was bad enough the first time. She made me wear it. A plain one would have done and…" She grew pink and her face appeared mortified at the remembrance.

"No, no that. I know that. It may be rare, but don't you realize that your brothers may tease you, but they are proud, even slightly in awe of you?" offered Gendry with sincerity.

"Er, maybe, sometimes. Jon was always fine with it. He gave me Needle…He let me watch him and my brothers train or used to watch others with me and offer comments and advice that included me." She rambled on with pride and affection for Jon.

"I feel the same way," said Gendry softly.

"You do?" She gazed at him with slight surprise.

"Yes. I said some things about it to you before. How brave you are and how you saved me and Hot Pie and even poor Lommy until…" His face stormed over once again. "The seven only know what happened to that little girl, still a baby…"

"Then why do I have to sit in a damned…I mean dress?" She was angry…Angry at many terrible things that had happened that they couldn't prevent. She wished he hadn't brought up the girl. She still thought of her too.

He knew. He dropped it and instead smiled broadly at her. "I think that for now we do things we don't want to. We let the smaller things go to win over the larger things that matter like survival, seeing this war through, but I am sure of one thing…"

"What's that?"

"That now you are back home with your family… and down the road you can choose to do whatever you want if we make it. Maybe never even wear a dress again."

She never thought about it that way.

"Don't try to force some to accept it. Already people, the men especially, have seen you and from what I hear respect you. Especially that Greatjon I have heard about. No hard feelings that you, er, supposedly knocked him on his ass. He said Ned would be proud. Show more of what you are worth, the Arya I know, and then dresses won't be much of a big deal. Give it time. I think we both know more changes are coming."

"You are right. Cersei could wear full armor and nobody would give a camel's cun…sorry, nobody would care if she _actually _ruled well and they weren't starving…"

"That's what I mean. I understand. Really I do. You have no idea, unless you have heard the talk already."

"What talk?"

"About me…about me and marrying…" He lowered his voice and turned to look briefly around the tent.

"Er, no, no I haven't…"

"Well. You will tomorrow. Any suggestions on who it should be? You told me enough about my father and Lyanna and my father and Cersei to warn me enough." He looked very angry.

"Oh, no…I…I never thought of it."

"I think some suggestions will come up tomorrow. Of course opinions will differ by House," he snarled in annoyance.

"Don't do it then," she shot out. And she felt a fool looking at his face filled with doubt, turmoil, and even a little fear. The dress no longer of any importance to her…

She felt a cold in the pit of her stomach and even more of how stupid she had been. And more….maybe more than she realized… She thought when she had first seen him, she knew she had felt relief and even comfort. What a good friend to her he had been, all they had been through, how many situations she had been in when she couldn't trust, but she could trust him. How she had her friend back who wouldn't expect her to wear dresses, or not curse, or not fight. The very person who would fight alongside her and her brothers and that they could trust. If he became married or even before that betrothed….things would change.

How could they spend time together, or even talk, if he was engaged? Would it be a House that would work well with the Starks? Would some of the things he said not be possible if his wife's family had a say?

She knew with dread what could happen. How bad things happened and how bad they could be. She knew because she had lived it and seen it.

"What's the matter, Arya? You look worse for wear, even more than I did when I became aware of this." He gave her a reassuring smile. She felt worse. He smiled more for her than for himself. It had taken effort.

"Nothing. I just…understand. I had this conversation with my father in King's Landing once, even more with my mother before that and after. Even my father thought my feelings would pass as I grew. He expected me to marry a great lord and have babies, and probably I'd have to give up Needle and my dance master and…"

"And are those your feelings?" He eyed her with rapt attention. "And _you…you_ had a dance master? Like someone that shows you all those fancy dances they do at court and…"

"No. We just said that. He trained me with Needle and…I will tell you all about him one day, but I am _not_ getting married. I won't. I won't leave Winterfell now…after everything… I don't want to be somebody's wife." She felt her hair moving about and knew she had messed it up.

"What about children?"

She had a twinge. She did like children. But she knew that it was most likely impossible with the road she wished to take of not marrying. For many reasons even though she didn't care what anyone said if she really wanted to have a child down the road. She would do what she wanted. She shrugged her shoulders. "I like them…but…"

"Well, even more than we already had in common over the years I guess. I never liked being forced to do anything either."

"I guess…maybe one day. When I want to. If I want to…"

He looked away and gazed around the tent. He moved a little closer to her seat and turned to her again. "What are you doing later?"

"Er, going to sleep."

"Hot Pie wishes to see you. And some of the Brotherhood that knew you then. Everyone is so proud. They can't believe how you escaped and survived. Neither can I. Well, knowing you, in a way I guess I can." He smiled at her, genuinely awed, but happy too.

"I'd love to see them. But it is so formal and with everything…I could get away, you know."

"There is a farm another half mile away with an abandoned house and barn. How about a small gathering with some old friends? I was in the Brotherhood for quite some time after you left us. No knights or very old lords, or banners, none of that. And you can help me decide who I should marry. I want your help. I have always trusted you and I see your brothers are good men just like you."

She smiled. It was wonderful to be considered one of the men, she could almost ignore all the talk about his marriage and who should be the bride.

"I can go but for an hour or so. Just let my maid open her mouth and…" Her gray eyes sparkled defiantly.

"Your maid?" He roared with laughter and interrupted several conversations around them.

"Let's not talk about it." She replied sheepishly. She didn't think much of it either. She was used to it and liked doing things for herself.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I will never get used to it either. All the fuss…but you look pretty again, in a dress that is.

"Er, thanks." She blushed dark pink. "What about you? Can you escape?"

"Yes. I order my guard not to guard me for an hour or two. I take Lem and Tom and Hot Pie and we meet you. I will tell him he needs to bring some of those sticky buns with the sugar and butter."

She smiled. He did bake very well. He had always let her sneak a bun or piece of bread here and there when she had to go to the kitchens at Harrenhal."

"Well, let's get this feasting over with. 11 it is then. And you must come. There is something I want to talk to you about."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Dividing Line**

**Chapter 4**

She made sure to put on her wolf helm after she was several feet away from the Stark camp. It sometimes made noise during certain movements. She had waited for her maid to fall asleep at the foot of her bed and changed from the tunic she was sleeping in, into the clothing and armor she had been wearing earlier in the day. _Never too cautious…_the Starks had learned. She was in a camp with so many different people under different banners, and she realized still that until she reached her safe destination with Gendry and their friends, it would be stupid to not be careful or prepared. One never knew either about travelers during the night not with them as well. Needle was securely strapped to her side.

As she approached her horse, she used the toe of her boot to gently wake a stable boy near her horse just as swiftly, squatting down and putting her hand over his mouth before he could speak with speed and ease. She whispered to him." I am taking my horse and I need you to help me get him ready, as quick and quiet as you please. I will be back in an hour or two. Tell no one. " The boy nodded and knew. She always came back and he had worked for the Starks for awhile now. He was no longer surprised by anything Lady Arya did. He never said anything. More than his job was worth.

Arya waited until the boy was done and then silently slipped one leg up and over her saddle. She took hold of the reins firmly. She looked ahead in the direction of the house and lowered the visor on her direwolf helm.

She trudged along only picking up a little speed to when she was further away from the Stark camp. It was dark and she had lit a small torch to light her way. She still squinted in the pitch dark further away to make sure she was approaching her destination. Several minutes later she saw the house that was much larger first and then the barn.

The horse kicked up gravel as it left the road to enter the path leading to the house. As the house came up, she decided that she would tie her horse there instead of by the barn. She didn't know if anyone besides their friends would be there, and if she had to make a quick exit or if anyone looked toward the barn, Arya Stark's horse would be clearly visible outside the barn where people were surely congregating. She looked at the barn and noted two large torches outside and some candles burning within.

She got down off her horse. She lifted her visor and extinguished her small torch by stepping on it and smothering it. She did not remove her helm. After she double checked to make sure that her horse's reins were tied securely, she started to make her way toward the house.

Syrio has tought her many things as did the Faceless Men. Every detail, every nuance, could mean all the difference. She noted the pattern-like music; her right foot and then the sound the crushing of the grass made, then the left, rhythmic ,soothing, a pattern …until it broke.

She slowed her steps, she heard the breathing. The time between footfalls differed. She knew better than to turn around.

She stopped and abruptly raised her elbow and slammed it behind her with all her might. In a second, Needle was out of its scabbard as she swiveled.

She heard the coughing fit first and then saw Gendry. Bent over, clutching his stomach, and taking deep breaths.

"You took the bloody wind out of me. I thought this was over." She noticed his eyes were wet.

"Why wouldn't you call my name first?" she countered, biting her lip and feeling instantly sorry about it.

"I didn't want to be loud or scare you." One hand clutched his side, but he rose to his full height.

"But this was going to be better or work?" she rambled out.

He pulled in his stomach with another deep breath and grinned at her. He ran a hand through his hair and took one last breath exhaling.

"As if you even need someone to help you…"

"I'm fine and you shouldn't be out here without someone at least. The Lannisters would love to have you." She had raised her visor, but it slammed shut as her arms waved to make her point.

"And you too. "He smiled. "Here." He pulled off the wolf helm and her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She cursed the twine silently that had held it back. "Well, I am with you now and you are certainly prepared, so you can protect me."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe not, you did leave the pack." She bit her lip again but she was teasing him.

"I am still in the pack. Bran's wolf likes me. I think. Almost took a chunk out of Hot Pie, but he did see him making his way to the tents from the makeshift ovens with food. Near pissed his pants, I'd say. Dropped some rolls. But your brother held him off when we were leaving." And he chuckled remembering the sight of Hot Pie.

She laughed. "Wouldn't be the first time…"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Forget the Hot Pie nickname…"

"Well, let us see if we can think of something catchy to do with piss. She dead-panned.

He laughed aloud again even louder. "Oh, that's enough. We will wake somebody."

"I can take my helm." She held out her hand obligingly. " I can carry it myself, you know."

"No, not yet, Arya. I want to take a better look at it inside. I can't make nearly as much as I'd like to anymore now."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Arya felt a little less brave upon entering. Everyone she had known was there. Hot Pie, Lem, Harwin, Thoros, Tom, others of the Brotherhood, and some assorted people she believed were there out of curiosity.

It made her feel stupid.

Well, here she was. They called her the _She-Wolf_. _Well, let them have a look, then._ It was better than Wolf Bitch anyhow. She thought of Sandor's jesting and wrinkled her nose.

"I thought it was just a small gathering of old friends…people I knew?" She looked up at Gendry.

"It was." He smirked and turned around. "Hot Pie. Didn't I tell you…" Gendry gave him a hard look with his deep blue eyes.

Hot Pie's head looked like a pomegranate when he blushed. "I…it wasn't my fault. I told Lem, he told Tom, Tom told Thoros, Harwin got too excited to see you, and then some others heard about the ale, and my pies, and they like them, they heard you would be here and…" He turned to them. "But they were for our Lady, and…well…"

As he continued to stammer the rest of the room took her in. She noted that Gendry looked back at them, stubborn as usual, and put a large hand on the small of her back to sort of guide her to a stool in the back that was not occupied.

Lem had to laugh. "Going to war now are you, Lady Stark." His eyes took in her fierce direwolf helm and breastplate, and the direwolf clips of her cloak.

"Would you like to try one of my pies? Why are you looking like that? Did I say something wrong? Should I kiss your hand or something, I knew I should have, but then I remembered, what you said last time and…"

She felt bombarded. She was happy to see them; that they had survived. Maybe it was too much?

"That's enough, I think. Would you all quit it and let her sit down in peace. Give her a minute," Gendry grumbled, but looked embarrassed.

She looked at him and had to grin with gratitude. The group of tough soldiers and rag tag men looking sheepish, and abruptly shutting their mouths; and some looking at the floor, in a respectful silence, instantly made her feel a bit more comfortable.

"No, I am not off to war. Not yet. But I will be." She answered truthfully.

"And Hot Pie. If you kiss my hand you might lose it. And I will try one of your pies, just like I promised. And by the way, I am only kidding."

The nervous titters grew into ribald laughs and a few of the men raised a cup to her. Hot Pie laughed a few seconds later.

"To Lady Arya…whom I have had the pleasure of having my nose broken," called out Lem.

"And possibly my knee…" the man from earlier called out.

She laughed and looked at Gendry. He smiled down at her from his great height.

When ale had filled many a cup several times and the pie had been passed around, the man got a bit braver and started to ask questions.

They asked about their many adventures: Yoren, Harrenhal, with the Brotherhood, the Hound abduction, and other things that had happened. She noted that Gendry had left out some of the more terrible memories. Lommy, Weasal…she wished they were here too.

As she made conversation with some of the men, Gendry had quietly taken her direwolf helm from her hands. He studied it and gave it a few sharp taps with his knuckles again.

"I think I could do better, although this is fine work." His dark brows furrowed as he looked at it intently.

"You would. Never satisfied…" She rolled her eyes in jest.

"The breastplate too…" he replied in all seriousness.

"You are so stubborn."

Gendry was about to discuss some of the specific issues he had with the maker's craftsmanship when Hot Pie stumbled over with ale in hand.

"I can't believe it. Some of the things I hadn't remembered in a while. Not sure I wanted to. But you being here, it seems okay now."

"What happened when you stayed?" asked Arya with concern.

"Should have left with the both of you. They pilfered any extra coin I was thrown and after a while it got worse, and I couldn't really make bread without when food was hard to come by. But they let me stay on and then out of nowhere Gendry came back for me. So I left to make bread for his camp and army."

"Why did you go back? I…I had sometimes wished we had. I thought Hot Pie might regret it." She gazed at Gendry.

Gendry didn't answer because Hot Pie answered for him.

"He said it is what you would have done," piped up Hot Pie.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why would I lie about that, m'lady, er, I mean Arya?"

Gendry turned red and gave Hot Pit a look.

"What? What did I say? That was a nice thing and all." Hot Pie then turned to Arya, "And then he told me what happened to you, Lady Arya…."

"Arya. Leave out the lady. Please."

"Right. And he looked sad and the whole story tumbled out as we rode off when he took me from the inn. That old bat and the nasty husband weren't thrilled, but then again, he is Lord Baratheon so they couldn't do nothing about it. And I am happier. They treat me well. I get to make bread. We are all friends now." He beamed. "My finest bread to date has been made around this lot. Can't complain."

"And we threw them some coin. And they are still loyal," offered Lem.

"And I offered them a song but the wife told me I could take my music and shove it where…" Tom stopped when Harwin shook his head to let him know that was probably not appropriate in the presence of a lady.

"But you have changed from being Arry. Your hair is long. You really look like a lady now. Even more so earlier with a dress on and without all the armor. Told everyone you yelled Winterfell with that sword back then."

"Well, I came here from camp alone. I only met Gendry outside because he was waiting for me."

"Oh, he was waiting all right. If I had to hear about you one more time…"Lem chuckled, and pulled up the collar of his cloak and got more comfortable where he was reclining.

Gendry gave him the look of death. The one many said resembled King Robert at his finest and caused instant mouths to close, with almost no effort.

"So. I am sure you have heard. Some think he should marry a maid. But not any maid. A highborn made…a noble lady. Anyone you can think of?" Tom strummed his instrument and broke into a song. "I can think of many…and one among many…who might be just right…"

Gendry gritted his teeth.

Arya yawned.

"I think we should all turn in. We ride early tomorrow," said Thoros.

"Yes. And if my maid wakes up I will never hear the end of it from Bran and Jon too because I left."

"You have a maid?" Hot Pie choked out as his eyes widened.

"Not by choice." Arya grimaced.

"Well, we can talk more in the morning. I will ride with your banners for a bit and find you," said Gendry.

Arya smiled. "Fine, but give me the helm back first. Knowing you, you will make improvements before I get to wear it again."

Gendry handed it back and smiled. "Sorry. I thought you might forget." He looked down at his boots.

"No. Not this." She pulled her long hair back and set the helm on her head. She patted Needle out of habit and exited the door.

The men smiled as they watched her go and called out good tidings.

And they all turned on Lord Baratheon to rib him as the door closed.

Arya made it back to her camp, and to her bed. She had removed her armor silently and crawled into bed after lowering a shift over her head. She had been safe. Nobody would dare touch her between her family's banners, the Brotherhood, and Gendry's other men too. But still, the movement in the bushes near her camp had slightly ruffled her.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Dividing Line – Chapter 6**

They rose early the next day. She had set out with Bran, Jon, and the rest, and with a horse big enough for Hodor.

Nearly an hour into the ride she noted the banners with the gold field and stag start an approach from the rear, with several wagons and their retinue following.

She saw many before him. Some of her friends in the Brotherhood galloped faster. She saw Hot Pie waving from a wagon, with bundles of goods stacked around him. She guessed it was foodstuffs and supplies. Lem, Harwin, and others nodded their heads as they fell into line with some of the Stark bannermen behind Bran's men. She knew it was Tom because she heard his singing before she saw him. He was on another wagon grinning over at her, as he strummed a lute.

Eventually some of the men made a clearing so Lord Baratheon could catch up. He didn't speed up to ride next to her. She was surrounded by her brothers. He smiled and let her be, but he was about 3 horses' length from her. She noted how much better on a horse he was since she had met him. Well, as an armorer's apprentice in King's Landing he saw more metal than horses. And he had no access to any horse and didn't know anyone who owned one at the time. Not even his master. Nor would he have been allowed.

They landed at another clearing and their banners and servants began to hammer away at spikes for tents and to unload the wagons. There would be another meeting of the lords and their banners along with Lord Baratheon, his advisors, and Bran. Bran made it clear that Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch would appear later in the meeting to sit at the high lords' table to discuss other issues. Arya was so proud of Bran but not surprised. He loved Jon too. And others would follow his example. He was the King in the North anyway. There would be no question of Jon joining them.

Arya had not been invited to sit in on this meeting, which she sort of understood. It was just for the lords. She was Lady Arya. Her brothers knew she would get involved in the thick of things whenever that may come, and she was also on hand to help train some of the newer boys, and had been at Winterfell. She had told Bran and Jon all of Syrio, Braavos, and most of what had happened to her, including much of the training she had picked up. Only her mother knew less, and others even less than they did. Those that were not attending the meeting decided to practice their skills after all was set up and they had settled. Arya watched their numbers grow. When some had heard the clacking of wooden swords, they had peeped their heads out of their tents and then rose to come and see.

But she got bored easily. She picked up a wooden sword as most of the newer younger boyds did when they sparred with her and the other men at arms there that were training. Needle was held by Hodor. She trusted him. Bran had asked him before he left to guard Arya's sword. He replied "Hodor," and did.

So they sparred. And were having such a good time of it they hadn't noticed that an hour or two had passed.

And the time passed. Out of the corner of her eye and through the smoke and glare of the fire that had been lit, she saw Greatjon Umber come over to sit his bulky, wooly form down on a log used as a makeshift seat. As he watched her spar he grinned with the few teeth he had left and roared with approval. Arya hadn't expected a cheering section when his men with him nodded and commented that The Ned would be proud of a daughter that could defend herself. She delighted in the fact that Arya Underfoot was not uttered with remembrance.

_Ned…my father…_The young squire got her in the shoulder with the wooden sword. It tore her jerkin a bit. With the sleeve hanging over her shoulder in a torn arc loosely, she removed it and carried on with her cloth tunic. She jumped over the fire nearby, undaunted, and swiveled to face him. He looked at her in shock which gave her time to press her attack until he was on the ground saying he yielded.

Umber laughed himself silly. She noted that Jon had quietly emerged from the meeting. He said nothing. He told her that Bran was being assisted by Hodor whom he had sent to find Bran with his lords in the main tent. Bran was tired and wished to nap. She knew better. Jon did not say that most likely he had seen something. He was going to try and dream. Summer accompanied him everywhere.

And so it went on. For a time she stopped with the other more experienced men to look at the young. Correcting stances, twisting wrists, fixing grips; her own water dancing stance making her stand out from the others. It always had. During a break, she noted the difference in the men's face. Men from other places had their interest piqued, she was more of a curiosity. The Northmen were unfazed, even more so since she had been home for awhile. They were used to this when they had visited Winterfell. Also, they were used to the ladies Mormont, the elders, who had noted her Aunt Lyanna as a girl, and some others thought nothing of her being a girl either. She would never be a part of their family, never their daughter or sister in law. They had tried months earlier. Lady Arya Stark would marry none of their boys. She had made it very clear that she wished to marry no one. Some had even taken to calling her Wolf Maid.

Ayra loved sparring, she always had. She jumped up from her seat and tied her hair back at the sides with twine for the hundredth time. A young squire, nearly a knight, had offered to spar with her. She knew this one. He had only rudely commented the other day that she should be in skirts. She had waited for the chance the show him why she shouldn't.

She noted that the meeting had ended and many others were flocking to the fire. She needed to be more prepared. She believed this one had also awaited a chance to make a mockery of her. She gritted her teeth and summoned for her maid. _Why, oh, why hadn't Bran and Jon agreed yet that she did require a squire?_

And her maid looked at her in shock but said nothing when she asked her to fetch her direwolf breast plate and her helm and Needle. Jon made a motion to stop her but knew better not to and kept silent. He knew he would never hear the end of it later.

Her maid returned trying to balance all three items unsuccessfully. They fell into a heavy heap at their feet. Arya ignored it and asked for the breastplate first. The girl lifted it awkwardly, probably wishing she had been asked to only comb out her hair. _But maybe not. It was done so infrequently…_

She was all thumbs as she tried to shut the clasps on the direwolf breast plate. Umber lead a cheer that Tom and Hot Pie took up and Tom sidled and Hot Pie ambled over to the Umbers. Hot Pie looked over apprehensively but sat down, munching on a cold pastry that had been left over.

With assistance from Arya the breastplate was enclosed. She looked down and Noticed the onyx and mother of pearl eyes, the snarling snout in which one could only imagine the slaver dripping down before a direwolf was about to attack. She thought briefly of Nymeria and how she missed her. The maid banged her head as she tried to place the direwolf helm over her head. Arya shrugged it off and put out a hand to stop her next more. Arya thought it more prudent to pick up Needle herself, to not risk getting injured before the sparring. Also, there was the off chance that her maid would try to fix her hair and that just wouldn't do right now.

Lem shouted out that things were looking up or certainly the squires were certainly getting more attractive looking, even pretty. The men in the crowd shouted out laughter and Arya's maid ran over to where Hot Pie was seated. Arya guessed he didn't look threatening enough.

The boy was apparently a banner to Storm's End. Some smaller house… But he was willful for his place. He eveb had assistance from a man in the banners who thought it was a hoot to be a squire again. When he was ready he nodded at Arya and they both raised their swords and moved wordlessly to a free space near the fire.

Arya's mind raced. _A few things…_

_He was young and wanted to prove himself, perhaps be knighted earlier…_

_A young man whose father was a banner to Gendry…looking to impress and move up. The idiot should have figured out Gendry was a good friend._ She wasn't sure he had.

_He most likely was going to fight dirty._ She knew that the day he started making comments about her sex. _He wouldn't want to lose to a girl even if it was for sport._

She knew what to do. She would make it look effortless.

He lunged first, as she knew he would. She stepped back. The weight of his armor made him stumble forward. She slapped him in the back of his breastplate with Needle and he went down on one knee. She reared back into the elegant water dancer's stance. He merely yelled out that if he had wanted to dance with her he would have asked earlier. But first she needed to don a skirt. She noted Jon grimace from the sides, knowing he should never have said that to his sister.

She noted Lem doing commentary from the sides and had to smile despite her smirk at the boy's audacity.

Tom called out to everyone that he would perform a new song he wrote "The Dance of the She-wolf," and Hot Pie continued…"Yeah, but first let her knock him on his arse again." The crowd roared. Hot Pie turned red and gave a lop-sided cautious smile.

That only made the boy angrier. She saw that. She also noted after a few sword strokes that he had been well trained by a man at arms. She was ready. _Tire him out first…._she thought.

More men had gathered but she pressed on. She noted Umber tell someone after a particularly nice disarmament that he had once seen her young aunt do something like that and her heart soared. She loved Lyanna, her memory really, because she knew Ned had. And then it hit her. Everyone said they were alike. She could only imagine what her father's life had been with his sister growing up. Then she knew why he had treated her the way she liked. _So different from Mother and Sansa… _Why she had always felt like he understood her more? How he was willing to accept her. And she felt the tears. She tried to will them from falling further. And the boy would only tease her and the men too. They would not know her thoughts, they would think she was tired or hurt or even worse intimidated.

She yelled out and moved forward. Her sword swung faster. He dived with his trying to get her down with force, she rolled to the ground. She saw her maid roll her eyes as the mud splattered over her white and light gray tunic and breeches. She felt her hair burst from the twine and it spilled out a bit from below her helm. She landed on her feet effortlessly.

Arya and the boy circled each other again, both wanting to land the final blow. She knew she could have taken him down faster but she had been distracted today, by her people and her friends. She looked over and saw Gendry as his men shifted over to make room for him. He had watched from farther back for awhile by himself before he decided to sit. She met his eyes. He didn't break the stare. She looked back at the boy quickly.

_Let him tire himself_…and then Syrio's words popped into her head or some of them.

By now the boy was sweating profusely, growing impatient and cursing. When they grew closer he grabbed at the back of her knee and tugged. She fell to the ground. It grew silent. She wished they would laugh. She was still a lady and they knew it was a hush of concern. It annoyed her. She didn't want it from the men. She wanted respect. She wanted to be both. _A girl and a warrior…_

She always had. She had never liked being mistaken for a boy. But it had saved her from situations at times.

When he called her a foul name because she wouldn't go down…it did it. She didn't know how it happened. This last time she got that angry was when the Hound pulled her off the Tickler. But nobody knew that besides her and the Hound.

She took off her helm and threw it to the ground. She wanted him to see her eyes. That she was a girl, her determined face, that her hair was long, just not as perfect as Sansa's… She just knew…it worked. The icy gray Stark stare, many have talked about it. How much she looked like Ned and Lyanna. Lem remarked that the helm throw down was now at two and counting for this campaign. The Northmen who had heard about it secondhand had cheered. Somebody had now struck up "For the Ned," and others caught it up. The North didn't give a shit what the Westerman And Sothroners thought. "For the Ned…for the Ned….for the…"

She moved closer. He looked apprehensive now. She smiled at him. He looked confused. She smiled more and closed in, Needle pointed at him. He raised his own sword out further. She crouched down in a blink of an eye and grabbed at his cloak. She pulled down and forward. He slipped and fell backward on his arse and into the mud. She waited for the fall and leapt on him. He fought back, she got a cut on her arm as he struggled. She saw the blood, she kept going. With some force, that she had always managed to pull from nowhere when she had too….She pulled off his helm and held Needle an inch from his neck. It was so fast he had never seen or heard her raise it.

"You know the words. I am a girl so I might not. No, wait, I just never had to yield yet."

He looked up at her. "I yield." The men gave out a cheer.

Her maid ran over nearly tripping over Hot Pie. "M'lady you're bloody." She clucked and fussed over her. This was not the reception Arya wanted but she let it be.

Umber ran over and threw her over his shoulders onto his thick neck. She let them parade her around to a chorus of the "Dance of the She-Wolf." He jounced her around and with her tiny stature she looked like a ragdoll. She held on to his furry cloak for dear life.

Gendry got up suddenly. He pushed through the raucous crowd. She looked down at him. "I think you lost this." He smiled. "Accidentally of course, but maybe I should make you an extra?" He gave her the helm. She raised it and the men got louder

She smiled.

He looked at her arm. "I have a maester nearby, why don't you have that cleaned?" he stared at her arm with concern.

"Fine. In a minute…" The boy was being attended too. He pouted, but he did grudgingly salute her and told her he was honored to fight by her side and that of all the Starks and their banners.

"Arya," Gendry pulled gently at her sleeve so she looked at him. "Lommy….my maester." He was stubborn and wouldn't leave her until she did. She knew.

He snapped her back. "Ok. Greatjon put me down, please."

He nodded and placed her on the ground. Gendry shook his head and took off his cloak. He put placed it on her shoulders and left an arm around her and walked her back to the log so his maester could tend to her wound right away.

Many more sparred after her and well into the night. Gendry was quiet. He looked over and smiled at her from time to time. Arya noted that he smiled a lot but hadn't said too much today. Well, no one had really. Most were engrossed with the fighting.

For some reason she hadn't noticed what was really going on. And how it was necessary; the sizing up, the North and the rest. How those with Lord Baratheon needed this. And Bran's banners too. They were going to King's Landing. They would fight side by side. They had to feel it. That they were brothers and that they could trust. It broke the ice for they were fighting for Ice….the North, and the new young Stag.

As mead and beer and wine flowed later it became more genial. Umber versus five men was good practice. He defeated them all and gulped down horns of ale well into the night. The Brotherhood and others in their cups challenged any man near them even the young ones too. And other banners recounted the glory days of fighting beside a young King Robert and asked Lord Baratheon to wield his own hammer for sport and for the hell of it.

Arya watched closely. She was curious. She had seen Gendry fight. She had fought with him. It made her a bit nervous. When they were younger he was all brute force. It was just natural. He had received no training, had grown up with no man at arms. He just hit people they had encountered so hard, they rarely stuck back. He was just so strong. There was no need to perfect the defense of his person, because they rarely were in a position to strike back once he had smashed them. But she had heard he had been receiving training, as she had since last they met.

A newly knighted man stepped forward. Gendry's squire removed his cloak. He took off his armor too much to the dismay and disagreement of his advisors and his men.

"I don't intend on killing anyone or being hurt. Just for practice, right?"

The man was given a light blunted sword. Not Gendry. He had since been trained with swords, to just be trained with them. He preferred a hammer like his father. This one was lighter.

Arya laughed that he hadn't changed much. He balked when people prevented him from taking his shirt off. When the man was ready they faced each other. Nobody moved. The man was anticipating his move, Gendry made that stubborn face where his brow furrowed and his expression was blank. Arya remembered it well.

Lem said, "I never could figure out if the was thinking about what to do next or if he couldn't empty his bowels…still does it when he fights."

Arya and the Brotherhood laughed with affection. Jon had moved where she was seated and leaned over to whisper to her. "Arya, he is still Lord Baratheon, people may think it is disrespectful." She thought of how they might and quickly closed her mouth. They would never understand what they had been through on the road before.

It was over in two minutes. The man yielded. Gendry gave out five hard swings before the man landed on his back and held out his arms to be lifted up. Gendry said nothing and returned to his seat. His squire gave him water because he refused wine and he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders because it had grown dark and colder. He had barely broken a sweat.

"Glad that is out of the way…"

"Yes, I guess we can all be friends now? The who is bigger contest is over, I imagine," said Lem.

Jon smiled at the comment. "The Night's Watch takes no part in these things."

"The Night's Watch is noble but it sure is boring,"replied Arya winking at him. "Well, I would be bored."

"Let's feast!" roared the Greatjon. "To our new brothers…" The crowd yelled. "To Lord Baratheon , king Robert's heir _and _the King in the North," rumbled the Greatjon.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Dividing Line – Chapter 7**

"Can't you just let her brush your hair…just this once?" implored Bran.

"I'm going to," huffed Arya.

"Leave the helm…please?" threw out Jon.

"Well, just in case, maybe I should….oh, fine, I won't, but I am taking Needle," she informed them stubbornly.

She stood in an ivory and pearl gray dress quite pissed and making faces and some exaggerated choking noises. It wasn't that low cut, but a little more than she was used too. She cursed the seven that she hadn't been suspicious when Mother and Sansa volunteered to pack her trunks for her. _What a fool I am…and damn it the pearly lace at the sleeves was too much for my taste…_

They all laughed while her maid brushed her hair until Arya asked her as nicely as she could to stop.

"Lord Baratheon doesn't mind me dressed in breeches…" Arya threw out carelessly.

"He likes you as a filthy little boy rolling in mud or so we heard from some of his stories of your travels together. Sounds like some adventures there," Bran grinned. "He tells us at the meetings during breaks."

"And he liked you surely in that acorn dress as well," Jon pinched her nose. "I'd muss up your hair but it is too pretty, your maid will kill me."

"Idle camp gossip, nothing more." She sniffed. "And my hair…I don't mind really."

"Good bye sister, I will see you there. I am going to meet with a few lords that wished to speak with me. Hodor," he called to him, and he arrived in less than a minute.

Jon waited until Bran left and then spoke softly to his sister as he gazed quizzically at her.

"He ever…"

"No never. Only person I can guarantee it never crossed his mind. Not with me or anyone else." Arya moved in front of the looking glass her maid held out in front of her and grimaced unsure of herself. Her hair was long and her maid had wrapped tendrils of hair around hot irons and made wavy curls. But she wasn't so sure…"Do you both think it is a bit much? Really now…tell the truth…I won't be mad…"

"You look like a beautiful lady. Your mother would be proud."

"The only reason I do this. And to please you and Bran from time to time. Otherwise I wouldn't give a camel's cu…"

"Arya," choked out Jon. Not again…"

"Sorry. Gendry and I picked up a lot of foul sayings on the road. Bad habit… I promise to work on it. And no, to answer your question…Gendry likes making things and playing with hammers better. He's my friend. He turns down whores like all the time."

"Admirable," said Jon.

"No, he is just stupid that way," answered Arya. She shrugged and eyed her maid warily as she held a brush behind her back and walked toward Arya.

She entered the tent. Gendry was on the dais with the Brotherhood. Hot Pie was joining them too. She walked over to the dais opening beyond hope that she didn't slip. The floor was strewn with bones from roasts, spilled wine, and the gods knew what else, mud, dirt, droppings from the dogs. There were some camp followers that came around to sweep from time to time, but that many men in their cups. They were certainly kept busy.

"So it is true," grinned Hot Pie.

"What?"

"You really do have a maid," chuckled Hot pie.

"Would you like to squire for me?" Arya asked pointedly, ignoring the jest.

"Not after what I saw today. Besides I am too slow and I love to make pies. And I think the North would be too cold for me…" he grabbed his sides as if imagining the chill and frost of the North.

"Yeah, you are fat and slow because of the pies. But if you put down a pie and picked up a sword we could teach you a thing or two. Really, we should in case you have to defend yourself," said Lem.

"I can defend myself," chuffed Hot Pie.

"Throwing a hot pie at someone's face could distract them for mere seconds but you are still getting run though with a sword," Edric Dayne shook his head.

"I fought alongside Arya. She yelled out Winterfell," Hot Pie straightened up and gave them a proud face.

"And he yelled Hot Pie," said Arya. Everyone broke up.

"It is not a joke. I did. I mean, what else could I yell? I don't have a bloody castle… my mum and my father were bakers…"Hot Pie trailed off.

"We can't all be tough that young. Arya Underfoot, I remember you running around the courtyard at Winterfell with diapers. She threw rocks and rode her pony before she could walk," Harwin smiled. "Her septa aged well before Lord Bran and his brother were born."

"Diapers could be better than this gown," Arya moped out as she looked down and tugged at her small train. Gendry laughed hard at that.

"Look at you. Pretty as can be. Lucky there are no roses round these parts or somebody would have crowned you warrior wolf maid of love and beauty." She noted that Lem laughed harder than anyone at his own jokes.

Men went to talk and sing ribald songs with Tom. Only Hot pie sat with them. Gendry looked at him for a long time and Hot Pie got up.

"Need to check on the rolls. Be back later." He made a hasty exit.

"So, It has been a while since we talked alone. I have been meaning to talk to you, Arya."

"It has. So busy and with people always around…"

"It's been good, but I kind of miss the way it was before sometimes too," admitted Gendry.

"My family always had people at Winterfell. I was never really and truly alone until after the Hound and I split up."

"Well, I always knew you could defend yourself but…"

" I learned a lot out there. My dancing master and then…"

"I am guessing not much dancing going on knowing you?"

"No, none at all. Gods no! It was to protect us at King's Landing. The water dance style from Braavos. And my instructor taught me much more and it helped me survive. And he was a great friend too. So long ago…before I even met you."

"And I don't have a style. Not even Westerosi. I just hit things and people if I have to…hard, but I'd rather not," Gendry looked sheepish.

"We don't have a choice. Maybe one day. No more. But even still I would always practice and try to get better."

"I hope so."

"How was your meeting?"

"Long. A lot was discussed. A scout came back. There are Lannister men miles from here. Another week or so and…"

"We are ready," said Arya.

"Yes. So tonight is the last feast for awhile. Too relaxed is not a good thing."

"Well, let us enjoy it then. Tomorrow we start focusing on the battle." Arya raised a wine cup and toasted him. Gendry smiled at her and clinked her cup with his.

"Yes. There is another meeting. Pretty much it is a day of rest tomorrow. Practice the next, and then we move."

"Anything else discussed?"

"Tactics. Where to place the lords and their banners…. We sent some more scouts out to get a better count of how many men the Lannisters have. These are not from King's Landing. They are the leftovers at Casterly Rock."

"That is a good thing then."

"It is. For now… When we get closer we have to be careful. We want to preserve what we have until we can meet up with the rest of my father's banners and there are still some Houses, well, we are not sure who they will side with." Gendry looked concerned, she noted.

"Well, you know how the Starks feel. Anyone aiding the Lannisters and the Freys…"her stomach lurched thinking or Robb. "They will die and we will take care of it. We don't expect you to go out of your way as we surely will. For Robb." She choked out and quickly composed herself.

"And I and my men feel the same way. No question. I swore an oath to your family. Those involved will answer for it. And there were other things…" He grimaced.

She guessed this might be why he was quiet today.

"Like what?" She had the oddest feeling of dread.

"My marriage, or others hopes for it. Every man in my house tells me of their daughter." Gendry made a disgruntled face.

"Surely our men haven't bothered you? They would ask Bran first and we have heard nothing."

"Well, one or two asked Bran and he said it was up to me. I appreciate that."

"Yes, this is war. No time for weddings…" She wondered why Bran hadn't mentioned it to her?

"Well, not the party and the dresses and such, but some, even my maester thought that if I offered to take the hand of a girl from a house that is not sure of which side to be on, it could turn in our favor."

"And you said no, right?"

"No. I mean I said I would think about it."

"You don't have to do it. We have enough men."

"For now we do, Arya. Part of me thinks it is my duty. It could help the outcome maybe. Save lives even."

"So you would sacrifice that part of your life?" Arya made a disapproving face at him.

"Maybe I should?"

"But you don't want to get married _ever _either. Neither do I."

"Well, I didn't quite say _that_."

"But you are young. You can have an heir eventually. Now, who has offered their daughters?" She crossed her arms to her chest and eyed him to just come out with it. He threw back his head and laughed at her expression."

"The seven help me if I remember them all…pretty much everyone has offered except Daenerys Targaryen of all people. Ok, stop making that face, I am just jesting. Really most of what I remember is brown hair, black hair, red hair, blonde…blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes. Fair, not so fair, and one that looked like Hot Pie. Short, tall, thin, and chubby, you name it, and it was described to me or miniatures were shown. I don't know how I got out of that meeting at the end in one piece. My eyes hurt from looking and my ears from hearing."

"Well then, tell them you don't want to get married until after the war. Stall..."

"Oh, I will, I mean, I am. They want to wait too. Well, some want to see if I make it through of course, not that they would say that to my face. Some say do it now, well the ones that want an alliance with a House sitting on the fence. But Arya, even if I did marry, it would be after the war. I have too much on my mind. I couldn't worry about a wife now. Some even suggested a betrothal…"

"That would be smart. They can be broken. You have to do what you have to. Even if… say you were married. My father went off…the rebellion with the Greyjoys. It never ends. Mother had men that stayed behind to guard Winterfell, old Nan, Maester Luwin, Rodrik Cassell, and household people we trusted. Most knew my father's father or my father when he was a babe. They were our family too." She grew wistful remembering all they had lost.

"Well, I thought of that too. But I am not you. That has slowly built for me over time. Who do I really trust? Who cares for me? My father is dead and he never knew me and so is my mum. I just found out I have siblings. The only people I trust are some of the Brotherhood, and Hot Pie, and you. And I am starting to really like your brothers. I trust Bran. He is a nice boy. And I don't mean that disrespectfully. He is young. And I really like Jon. When you talk to him…he understands, he had it hard like we did. Really, his whole life, just like me..."

"Well, did anyone catch your eye?" She could kick herself for asking but she was curious. She remembered Bella at The Peach. She was a pretty girl. A whore yes, but she couldn't picture how someone whom Gendry liked would look.

"He paused and answered, "Yes…"

"I mean after the war…" And she was about to let it all spill out. It would be all right. She just didn't want to lose his friendship. He accepted every part of her that wasn't very lady-like. Really, most of her. How could she find that again? No wife would approve of his spending time with a girl who wore breeches and liked to fight. If they could just get past that and if he could find a girl that would be accepting all would be well.

"I could marry before," said Gendry.

"But I thought you didn't want to? Now she was angry and she was confused. She thought they were on the same page. Her heart sank. It was nice to have a comrade in arms. She had dealt with this months' back when the offers came in to Winterfell and Bran politely declined them all for her. Now she was alone. Eventually Bran would marry. Sansa would. It made her feel alone. It made her fell like a hypocrite. She didn't want to but what would life be like when everyone else was? She had never thought of this before and felt like a weak fool.

Gendry moved in closer to speak to her. "It is not that, Arya. I don't want to marry any of _them_."

"Well then, what is it?" She looked fearful but perplexed. She thought they had understood each other completely.

"Because…I want to marry _you."_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Dividing Line – Chapter 8**

It had just come out. He almost couldn't have helped himself anymore.

He didn't look up at her. He just delivered it. A simple statement of his intentions. He stared into his cup of wine and then took another slow sip. She saw him gulp with difficulty.

Her immediate reaction was swift. She hit him in the shoulder.

"Stop being stupid! That is not the answer. I hadn't even thought of that. You _can't_ marry me, your friend, so nobody bothers you. That is ridiculous. Just say no. I did. Now is not the time."

"I heard you did." He slowly looked up and his face looked blank. His eyes were another matter.

What he didn't tell her is that he had hoped she would. And as soon as he could meet with the Starks he had sent for her to come to treat with him. Just in case. Just in case someone else got to her first before he could see her again. He hadn't seen her since the Hound took her. But it had given him time to think. That he may never meet that girl again. He had hoped she was unhurt, alive; he was happy she had gone home. But he learned even more about himself. That whether lord, king, or blacksmith, she had made his life very difficult. Because any girl he had met, he couldn't help but compare them to her. He hated her for it sometimes. Why she had to run out into the rain and into the hands of the Hound. How he may never find someone like her again when he had missed her as a friend, and then thought of her as years passed. How she had flowered now, what she looked like, because she had been a pretty little thing. How he probably always felt something more for her even then, but they were so young, stupid, and in great danger.

She was so loyal, reckless but brave, caring, smart, funny, a great fighter, and pretty too. _That if she had just stayed around longer…_And it made it even worse when he found out he was Lord Baratheon and there was still no trace of her at first. What he had worried about before was for naught. He had been knighted twice and claimed as an heir and legitimized. He _could_ ask for her. A silly mad thought, but it was nice to know that he could like Edric. Though she would probably kick him and tell him to go to the Stranger, but still. But there was no one to ask for. He even dropped his annoyance with Edric Dayne. And when word got back to him that the true Lady Arya Stark had returned to her family, in rags, but unhurt. She would never understand how he heard the news…

He never believed it was real. Their time had to be a fairy tale. The bits of some he could remember, his mother telling him when he was little. Her life and now his… His earliest memories were the warmth of his mother's arms and lap. She stroked his hair. She said how black and silky it was, so thick like his father's. She would sing to him before he went to bed. And one day the owner of the tavern told him she was gone. She had gone to be with the Mother but had left first with the Stranger. They had left him alone that day. Days later he woke to find his things packed and Tobho Mott had picked him up to take him to the forge. And he worked many hours. He worked hard and never complained. His master seemed to like him as the years went by. He would call some of the others lazy but never him. Sometimes he got extra food or a pat on the head when he did very nice work. Sometimes he was complimented that he worked so hard and some boy working next to him didn't knew his arse from a hole in the ground. Tobho told him that one day he would show him more; sealing swords with spells and other things. His wife had died and he had no sons, maybe he would leave the forge to him if he kept at it?

And then he came one day and said he was sending him to the Night's Watch. He knew why. It was because he complained about selling the bull helm to Lord Stark, or so he thought. And then he took his few belongings, Tobho let him take the helm, and he was delivered to the grumpy, tough Night's Watch man, Yoren. He didn't like the looks of those around him. He knew, he had heard things; robbers, rapers, murderers, and nobody that wanted to be there. But he never complained. It was his lot in life. Lately, life in King's Landin could be worse. At least he would have food, a bed to sleep in. He could still smith. Maybe he could make a few friends? And there was always hope for advancement. He had no home or other hope for prospects, just smithing. He knew they could never marry or have children but it didn't bother him. He hadn't even thought about that then. He liked children but he had nothing to offer them anyway when Mott gave him up.

And as he kept to himself and observed quietly, he watched a scrawny boy, newly arrived, get cornered by Hot Pie and Lommy. So he went over to help. He was bigger than them and he punched harder if he had too.

And Arry had become his good friend. He was daring and brave and saved them. He was funny and he felt braver himself and that they had a chance to survive.

They made an odd pair. He, so tall and muscular, and Arry, so short and thin. And then he noticed things. Sometimes the voice didn't sound like a boy, a mannerism was feminine, or a smile or laugh. And the face was pretty, not a boys. Arry never talked about girls like Hot Pie and Lommy did. She never undressed or bathed naked or ever even took a piss in front of them.

And one day, he didn't know how, he just knew, so he asked.

And not only was she a girl, a highborn girl, a noble, a lady with a castle. He imagined what her life was like. Dresses, dolls, her own rooms, a privy, a nurse, a mother, father, and siblings…Meals that could be counted on, name days and feast days, and here she was with him, with this lot. He had wanted even more now to protect her. It must have been worse for her now, knowing what she lost. He remembered meeting her father, Lord Stark. She did look like him. But it wasn't exactly like that. She hated dolls and dresses. She hated knitting and embroidery, and everything else that most little ladies did. She ran around them fighting, lying, scrounging for food, killing for them, sleeping in the rain, and staying up riding all hours of the night.

She couldn't be real. But she was.

But it was just that she didn't like those things. She could be them if she wanted. He thought of Acorn Hall. …

He laughed at her after she was dragged for a bath. She came down smelling like flowers, a clean smell; pretty. Her hair was longer now and combed out. Her dress was pretty and she looked like a little lady. And he noticed for the first time how truly pretty her face was without her hair in her eyes, and smudges of dirt and mud on her face. He noted the thin face, the cheeks filling out now that they had somewhat steady meals, the small nose, the gray eyes…and for the first time he thought ahead. When she was older…she would be even prettier, beautiful even. You could tell. And what were the odds? A beautiful woman that could fight and was exciting; it had appealed to things he had dreamt about and knew he could never have. It made him sad then angry. And all because of birth. She was going home to Winterfell. To one day be married and a lady which she didn't want, and he had no choices or prospects but the Night's Watch.

Edric Dayne's presence did not help. He was born. He didn't earn it and had no choice. It was made for him. He was a lord. He could marry and have a family, and live in a castle with comforts. Gendry didn't care about comforts. But a bed to sleep in and not worrying about food would make him happy enough. And he seemed to hit it off with Arry, or Lady Arya, his friend, that saved him, cared for him, and didn't care that she was a lady and he was nothing. She was still his friend.

So he decided that he could take certain matters into his own hands. Not much, but be proud and do something to help others, something noble and still smith. He offered to join the Brotherhood Without Banners. He had no family, no home, no name, and no lineage. It was the best he could think of. And it had all swept up from there. It was with the Brotherhood that he had saved Lady Brienne, had cared for orphans, had met Jeyne and Willow and realized they were poor replacements for his friend. There was only one Arya, or had been. He was knighted and he was happy being Ser Gendry of the Hollow Hill. But then Brienne had come back and with others. And he was told he was the son of a king. He had royal blood for many years back and noble from many houses. Even the Targaryens. And he knew what he had to do. Not twenty orphans; he could maybe help many. So he was Lord Baratheon and Lady Arya was most likely dead. Until…

He was knighted and many talked to him of what they should do. When his father's banners started to join him, he knew he must approach House Stark first. Brienne was known to them. She knew Lady Catelyn well even before what happened to her. And she could confirm to House Stark who he was. She had seen him with her own eyes. And it turns out that Brienne had gone to Mott who also had confirmed what Jon Arryn had done, back to Varys and the payments of gold. So he sent messengers to speak for him as well as ravens. With Stannis and his daughter gone, they backed him. His sister Mya he would legitimize and Edric too if they wanted it, which he wouldn't doubt.

He also heard that Arya had not returned. Brienne had been looking for her. They had just about given up hope after looking for her for years. Gendry and the Brotherhood had explained before that Arya had been with them and Harwin too. They felt relieved that they could fill in some missing spots of her life for them. And then one day a raven sent word of her return. She was in rags, disheveled, but unharmed. Harwin had come back to him shortly after her arrival. He sad she still had that Needle sword of hers, if one could believe the luck. She was not hurt and her remaining family was overjoyed. He had dropped the parchment, his insides had leapt. Exactly why he didn't know, but he couldn't control a bunch of things that rushed over him. So he could not wait when they all decided to march. He hoped no one would mind but he had to see her, had to really see for himself if it was truly her. It was. And he had been right all along. She would be even more beautiful as she grew older. Maybe even more then he had imagined.

She once made fun of him that he had turned down Bella for free at The Peach. He didn't want to. He didn't want Arya to see him. And he was just not interested. Time with her, or Arya amusing him, being funny, and hitting him and losing her temper when he teased her? He had chosen right.

"But aren't you going to say something….I mean, about what I just said?" he asked Arya.

"I did. It is stupid. You are stupid."

"It is not stupid. What you said is stupid. Do you think that is my reason? He felt anger and some embarrassment too.

"Yes," she said stubbornly.

He said nothing. She swatted him in the shoulder again, as if trying to shake some sense into him, and he resented it.

He blinked and just looked at her and then around at the room to see if anyone had heard.

" To anyone that asks I would say not, simple really… And now I must go."

"Wait, Arya. Are you going because of what I said to you?" He looked unruffled.

"No. I am tired, men are approaching and I intend to start my day of rest early. Bran and I and Jon have barely had time to talk and…" she looked away.

"So that means I won't be seeing you tomorrow then?" His expression grew stormy.

"Well, I can't, I told you why." She bit her lip and looked towards the exit.

"I shouldn't have said it."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"I won't say it again," he assured her stubbornly, angry at her response.

"I should hope not."

"Maybe you should retire." His brows knitted and his face grew dark and sullen.

"I am trying to". She made a clicking noise in the back of her throat of impatience.

"Good night then, Arya."

"Good night, Lord Baratheon."


	9. Chapter 9

**The Dividing Line**

**Chapter 9**

She walked swiftly and very hard on her feet. Her steps quickened as she rushed back to the Stark camp. She cursed silently that she had a dress on and that her slippers were not that sturdy and certainly not crafted for running in the woods. She felt something in her left slipper and cursed again. This time she heard herself.

Her brothers would be furious because they had left earlier as she spoke with Gendry, naturally assuming that he would have her escorted back safely and most definitely not alone. She then cursed Gendry because they not only would be mad at her, but they would be disappointed in him. And Arya was more concerned about their alliance and what lie ahead.

Let someone just approach her while she was in this state: angry, hurt, confused, and somehow feeling guilty as hell that she had not acted right back there. Her head hurt. She was not sure what she could have done, but he had taken her completely off guard. But he had betrayed her. They were friends and he was starting to think like the rest of them. They were putting stupid ideas into a head that could already be stupid and stubborn at times. And if someone had heard what he said to her; camp gossip always being rampant and spreading quickly, there might be some fathers, lords who were intent on offering their daughter's hand to Gendry, that might have had their hopes crushed, and that could be a dangerous thing.

It was very dark. She could not see much around her, yet the light glimmering from the torches at the still distant Stark camp were visible to her. It was then that she heard the rustling in the bushes again. She sped up. There was no mistaking that something was there besides the winds. Her hair had loosened and began to tangle. She cursed aloud that she hadn't thought to bring a piece of twine to hold her hair back earlier. Arya swore that they would never get her in a dress again. Not her brothers and not her maid either, no matter what faces they made or words and clucks of approval. She heard the movement become louder and she heard more rustling. She looked back. It might be more than she though. It slowed her by seconds but she thought it best to know what she was up against to better prepare. She had Needle, if not her breastplate and helm. She would use it if need be.

She ran faster and what had been watching her for a while now emerged. Several wolves emerged from the bushes. It was strange. They revealed themselves one after another. They had picked up their pace when it looked like she wasn't going to stop after she turned from them. But one was more intent than the others in tearing after her, and another was tearing after that wolf, and the rest just seemed to follow.

She tore through the forest. Her hair streaming behind her, and her gown getting caught on long spindles of branches. The left slipper was bothering her and she realized she would be better off barefoot. She risked the seconds but stepped out of them and ran harder to make up for lost time.

And then she put her hands out because she was falling. She had not seen the raised and large, knotty tree root covered in grass. Arya saw it now. It was too late. But even in her fear, they were _her_; the Stark sigil. She truly did not know what to do. She wanted to live yet didn't want to hurt them. She had never been more torn. She had their blood, and her initial plan was to get away and not to hurt any of them. She didn't want to harm her own. Arya dreamt of them and it had always felt more than that. Arya looked at them and willed them to understand she meant no harm. As if her feelings could seep into them. She closed her eyes for a moment, but practically she knew she shouldn't so she opened them again and watched cautiously. She paused and began to think of what Syrio had taught her. _Be quiet, observe, one foolish move can ruin everything…._but if they were very hungry…then what?

The first wolf that had come after her, the hungry wolf, padded slower now that it sensed she was vulnerable. It moved closer and paced back and forth. It was snarling and she could see the slaver dripping from its snout. It wanted to attack her. The others came behind but did nothing. They kept a reasonable distance and seemed like a row of obedient soldiers. They looked at one that was slightly ahead of them. It was bigger and looked like the dominant one. This one was tensed up and angry. Seething really, but not at her, she was focused on the wolf that wanted to attack her. Its gaze would not leave the wolf near Arya and her growl grew steady and more menacing. She looked about to spring at the other one if need be. The hungry wolf turned to the angry one and seemed to turn back to Arya again and then hesitated. It gave her one last look, dropped its head grudgingly and then turned. If they were hungry she would feed them at camp. She would throw scraps to them like they did for the dogs in the temporary kennel in the camp. And she felt a fool because these wolves would not care, but then her gaze focused more closely on the angry wolf as it grew calmer and stopped its growling. And then she shook and her eyes widened in disbelief. The angry wolf that had stopped the hungry one stepped closer and was looking at her. All tension and anger wiped away. It moved closer, almost hesitantly, as if she would hurt it.

Arya realized that she had, with rocks, and even worse, with abandonment. The direwolf had been hurt and very deeply, but it still loved her and was loyal, and no ties could be broken when something was a part of you. And Nymeria looked at her as if expecting to be sent away again. The wolf waited much as the owner. For the other to make the first move that it was okay.

The tears streamed from Arya's eyes and blinded her. She could not remember the last time she had cried so hard. Her wolf had grown bigger and was unkempt and wild, but she was safe from the Queen. The wolf moved closer taking careful and slow steps. Arya knelt and when she held out her hand the wolf knew. It charged at her and threw itself into her arms. She looked at Arya still unsure of why they had to leave each other almost, or that was what Arya thought she saw as she wondered if it was her guilt again rising from within. But it was fleeting. This moment erased all. She had made the right choice. Her wolf was safe and had come back to her. Arya marveled that with all the troubles with Gendry, that Nymeria had come to her just when she needed her most.

Arya got tears all over her wolf. She cried and cried and held the wolf ever closer to her. Arya could smell the wolf smell mingled with scents of dirt and the forest from the wet fur. She looked at the wolf and the wolf licked her and moved closer, rubbing up against the warm skin of its master. The both just knew and thought of the dreams she had had. Arya felt herself slip inside and communicated that fresh meat was near, no longer dreaming. The other wolves turned and kept a respectful distance, the hungry one now sitting and watching calmly. They knew. Nymeria, their pack leader, had made it clear to them.

Arya rose and Nymeria stood by her side closely. She followed behind as Arya walked the last few minutes to her camp.

But there was no slipping into her bed or sneaking food.

Summer was there as if he expected Nymeria. He sensed his sister even before they arrived and ran to meet them. They had a moment where their eyes locked. They moved towards one another and Arya felt something pass between them. Summer was at both their sides to lead them back.

Nymeria turned to her pack, perhaps as regally as the Queen she was named for, and, to Arya, it looked like it was Nymeria letting them go. They were released from their service as a soldier would be. The hungry one would lead them now. It turned to face them and they looked at her. They were free to feast as food would be found in the camp scrap pile that was half a mile from camp, and they would leave. Nymeria's place was with her other self, Arya, and with her three remaining brothers. The wolves left quickly following behind the hungry one. This female was a bit smaller than Nymeria but just as fierce and commanding.

Arya learned a bit later that the wolves had not just appeared to her that evening.

Arya looked ahead and saw Ghost approaching with Jon and Bran and Hodor.

They looked angry but as if it subsided. She was back, alone but safe. They would light into ger tomorrow about it. But perhaps they were not quite mad, because they knew she was safe with her direwolf.

But they still couldn't understand how she had found her. Ghost padded over to Summer and Nymeria and they all wondered if their wolves had sensed something earlier. Ghost had gone out to hunt a few times and Jon remembered Ghost pulling at him to lead him somewhere almost. But Jon had not gone very far, not wanting to leave Bran, and always worried about keeping an eye on his sister. Jon realized now that this is where he might have been trying to lead him, perhaps pointing out that a pack was near.

But they also realized that Nymeria probably had never stopped looking.

Arya was thrilled. She had lost a friend but gained an old one and a part of herself back. She pushed all thoughts of Gendry to the back of her mind for now. Tonight was for Nymeria and her homecoming.

And then the horses and men moved about and came closer to where they stood. The Stark camp was roused and alert and she noted behind them that men were coming from the Baratheon camp in the other direction. They had seen the wolves and had chased them off. They also knew that Arya had left earlier without a guard. Gendry most likely told some of his men, and they were more concerned after they encountered the wolf pack that was roaming near both camps.

They did not seem pleased to see Nymeria. They knew Jon and Bran's wolves, but not this large female. It was apparent that it was bigger and wilder than the other two they were used to seeing. It would have to be explained. Bran moved forward with Hodor to speak to Gendry's lords and Jon explained to the lords in the Stark camp. The men were curious yet relieved, and some took it as a good sign that it was another of the litter that Ned Stark had discovered years ago. Many were just glad too that they could go back to rest. Tomorrow was a full day of rest before camp was dismantled and they went back on the road.

Arya turned and saw a large and dark figure on horseback. It was Gendry. He was seated on horseback in stony silence. But she could feel his eyes on her and her wolf, even though he didn't appear to look at her and was listening and conversing with Bran. His eyes darted over every once in a while to take her and her wolf in. He was shocked that it was her wolf, but gave no indication besides the wide-eyed look he expressed for a moment, when the apparent recognition came to him. Arya had told him so much about Nymeria, and what other wolf would be rubbing its head on its master's body, while refusing to budge from Arya's side. He almost had to laugh, because he thought the wolf expressed by its demeanor somehow that it dared anybody to part her from Arya. He nodded and said he would explain to his men. Everything was fine now with the two camps. All they needed was the confirmation that the other wilder ones were gone and that this one was a Stark wolf like the other two.

Arya knelt down. One arm was around her wolf's neck and the other was rubbing her. Nymeria stood as still as a statue, looking back at Arya. Arya averted her eyes and did not look again at Gendry.

Gendry concluded his talk with Bran and pulled at the reins to turn his horse around. He made no attempt to talk to her. He rode back with his men to camp.

Jon Snow thought it odd but said nothing. He would speak with his sister tomorrow.

Arya pushed the slight apprehension from her mind. It was for the best. When they started on the road, things would be as they were. A common purpose, a common goal, and they would fight beside each other. Her thoughts raced but then something occurred to her that would have to be worked out immediately. How would her maid take to Nymeria?


End file.
